I’m a Jinius

You have been so patient, dear readers.

This blog is ostensibly about dating and going out but you have endured all my posts on LOST, 30 Rock, and a dvd on string theory. Yeah, you know you’re in a dry spell when you voluntarily watch Nova specials on physics. I DON’T EVEN LIKE SCIENCE!

But these days there has been an extra spring in my step. I break out into giggles for no apparent reason in the middle of the work day or even during a shower. I have a perpetual grin on my face like some crazed cult member.

It was raining in New York yesterday and I skipped along the puddles like they were streams of gold! A cab drove by and drenched me in puddle water–just like in the movies!!!–and I didn’t care!!! I just continued walking and grinning!

What, pray tell, could be the source of all this… happiness??? (more…)

I had drinks with a guy friend on Friday night and at around midnight his phone started flashing. He flips open his phone and shows me a text from this girl he hooked up with before.

UR hot…lets makeout.

I laugh. I think I know a thing or two about texting while drunk and horny. What is it about happy hour that augments your desire for gadgets and boys?

He texts back and asks the girl if she is drunk. Seconds later, she replies:

Maybe…hehe.

And then she called him. Ah, the drunk communication trifecta: two texts and a call.

Isn’t that cute? My guy friend asks.

It was cute. And of course it made me wish that I had someone to drunk dial ME!! And at that moment I felt kinda bad for being so snappy with the 25 year old. He’s 25. Of course he’s going to feel horny at midnight and send random texts. And then I feel worse for telling him he has texticular cancer. If only because it’s probably not all that nice to bring up CANCER in a digital discourse.

And then I remember all those times I was embarrassed at my drunk texts and in retrospect I really don’t think they were that bad.

What’s so wrong with telling someone that you think they’re attractive and exhorting them to make out with you? This very second? And insisting that they should leave their co-worker’s/best friend’s/dying sister’s farewell party and come meet me at the other side of town?

What, pray tell, is so wrong with that???

I woke up on Monday morning feeling like I had just been beat up. I could barely raise my right arm or bend over to tie my shoes. What the hell did I do to my body this weekend?

Oh, right, I danced for like eight hours on Saturday night and then went to a shooting range on Sunday. Gun control is overrated! But more on that later.

Friday:
My friends and I go to my favorite bar and I FINALLY score a conversation with my hot bartender. Well, I suppose it wasn’t a real conversation but more of an exchange. Of three words. And a giggle.

Bartender: Hey, good to see you again.
Me: Yeah…um…it’s good…seeing you…yeah…lol

That was the extent of our conversation. But it was dripping with subtext!

Bartender: Hey good seeing you again…for the hundredth time.
Me: I’m picturing you with your shirt off.

My roomie suggested that I should just go one night alone and talk to him. Um, right, cause that wouldn’t be creepy! But she does have a point. Hot Bartender is not the chattiest cathy and my friends and I aren’t the most stranger friendly people. I mean, one guy used to call my group of girlfriends The Riot. This was an accurate description because a) we’re a riot and hi-larious and b) when we get together we do resemble an angry mob of people.

But hot bartender will be mine. He just doesn’t know it yet. (more…)

I think we all know why god designated the seventh day as a day of rest.

Boyfriend was popping some advil and sipping on gatorade.

(Dear Evangelical readers, that was a joke. Please don’t sue me! I have no money!)

Saturday was Henri’s birthday and we all gathered at Hacienda for libations and dancing to top 40 songs. You know you’re old when you prefer bars that play pop music instead of indie rock songs.

Anyhoo, despite being very vigilant about drinking in moderation , I still managed to suffer a massive hangover on Sunday. But I did not black out or do anything too embarrassing. In fact, I was the one looking out for other people and making sure they were okay. Wow, talk about reversing the roles.

I think the key to keeping your shit together is to limit yourself to one drink per hour and drinking water throughout the night. Of course, by the end of the night I was drinking whiskey gingers every ten minutes. But I think all the dancing mitigated the corrosive effects of liquor.

On Sunday, I downed two Zicos. Have you guys had Zico? It is so delicious. It’s fresh coconut water and great for hangovers because it has all these electrolytes. Not that I even know what electrolytes are but people seem to think they are good for you.

I guess the Zicos weren’t enough because now I’m sick. I was on the couch all day today intermittently sleeping and watching the food network. This also explains why my last blog posts have sucked ass. So thanks for being patient, you guys. Ummm, now that I have your sympathy, you think you can come across the computer screen and bring me some theraflu? Thanks. (more…)

Wanna know the best panacea for the winter blues? I shall prescribe one for you. Get thee a juicy burger, a frosty glass of brown ale, and a plate of warm donuts. Oh, and share this with great company!

Vidya and I went to my favorite new bar (well, it’s actually a restaurant but I always end up sitting at the bar!) last night. She had a Manhattan and I started off with beer. I figure it’s not a sage decision to be drinking bourbon on an empty stomach. (more…)

Friday
It was the end of the week and I decided to reward myself by going to happy hour. (Did BF Skinner invent happy hour?) My friends and I convened at my new favorite bar. It’s my favorite because they serve this drink that is like the master cleanse but spiked with bourbon and they have a hot bartender who graduated highschool in 2002 (wtf??) and gives out free donuts. Is it a coincidence that now every time I see a donut I start salivating? Is someone doing a behavioral experiment on me??

Anyhoo, my hot bartender was not there which was probably a good thing because my friends and I quickly became the loudest people in the place. We knew we were loud when we stopped talking and could actually hear the music in the background.Everyone around us was chatting quietly and eating dinner whereas we were laughing like hyenas. Whatever, I think we were entertaining. If only to ourselves. (more…)

I know, I know. How could I do that to him? And on Valentines Day of all days?!?!

But I heard the siren call of open bar at The Delancey and all my friends were going. So I was all “peace out, home slice.”

Sorry, baby, but I had to hang out with three dimensional people.

Anyway my ass had to dance to Bonafide Lovin’. (Thanks Fleetweek DJs! You guys rock the hizzouse!!!)

Oh, I learned that Guinness is neither low carb nor low cal. It’s a myth. Like evolution. In fact it has alot of sugar. I wish I had learned this earlier, I had like three pints last night!!! I knew there was a reason it tastes like a milk shake!

So this beer drinking thing is at least helping me in the “staying relatively sober so I can remember how I get home” department. But it’s no good for the expansion of my waist line. I can’t win!!!

Confession.

I like to read cookbooks in bed.

But not just any cookbook. I like to read Nigella Lawson’s How to Eat–her ode to cooking and consuming. It’s really the perfect lullaby. You can feel Nigella soothe you to sleep with her stories on how to cook the perfect roast chicken or bernaise sauce.

So tonight I decided that I should probably actually, you know, attempt to cook something instead of just reading about it. I was really craving chocolate so I embarked on a chocolate chip cookie expedition. Unfortunately I don’t have Nigella’s baking bible The Domestic Goddess so I turned to one of my favorite food blogs for direction.

If you guys haven’t clicked on Smitten Kitchen then bookmark her now and subscribe to her feed! Her writing and food are just delicious. The photos just seem to leap off the screen and beg to be eaten.

Smitten’s favorite chocolate chip cookie recipe is from David Lebovitz’s Great Book of Chocolate. After one look at the photos I knew I had to have them. In my mouth. Immediately.

So I tried to channel my inner domestic goddess.

This is what Nigella wears in the kitchen.

This is what I wear.

It kinda looks like a Kandisky painting.

Or a geometry lesson. And, yes, I’m wearing spandex. Don’t you wear spandex in the kitchen?

This is what my kitchen looked like during the cooking process. Um, I’m a domestic goddess in training.

And here’s how my cookies came out.

I’m not the most skilled photographer tee-hee. But you will just have to take my stomach’s word that these cookies were Le Bomb. I must have gobbled up a half dozen ’cause I just had to take a bite out of each batch and make sure they turned out okay!

I guess on my way to becoming a domestic goddess! If domestic goddesses wear spandex…

Recipe here.

Ilana forwarded me this NY Times article about a woman who went to our alma mater back in the sixties and made extra money in college by babysitting. And through babysitting she discovered the joys of raiding her employer’s fridge. Something I fondly remember exploiting as well.

I think the most memorable family I babysat for was this Italian couple with three boys ranging in age from 4-7. Okay, I don’t know how those parents did this on a daily basis because do you know how hard it is to look after THREE RAMBUNCTIOUS ITALIAN BOYS??? Oh my god, I need a massage just thinking about it. I must’ve been 18 or 19 at the time and I remember being so tired after the first gig that I came home and vowed I would never babysit again and passed out in bed.

But I returned. The money was too good. And the food was even better.

The parents were straight up from Italy and ran an Italian restaurant in the city. So you can just imagine the heavenly treats they had stored in their fridge. Fresh mozzarella.Lightly breaded chicken cutlets that were so juicy I could gobble three at a time. Leftover pasta with the most heavenly marinara sauce. I could bathe in that marinara! Oh, and the sweets! They had an entire pantry just devoted to imported Italian cookies and chocolate!

For a 19 year old college student who subsisted on the monotonous menu of a meal plan, this was heaven. If heaven were a kitchen on the Upper West Side. (more…)

New Yorkers are always joking that they have a drinking problem. This is because we all have drinking problems.

I mean, why bother shelling out 25 bucks for a museum or 50 bucks for a play when you can buy 2-for-1 martinis at your local bar? Not only is it more economical but you even benefit from alcohol’s palliative properties to numb the stresses of urban life. Score!

So, yeah, New Yorkers drink excessively. And it’s easy to dismiss this behavior by saying “Well, it’s not like I wake up and have to drink a handle of vodka to make it through the day.” We just drink the equivalent of a handle of vodka throughout the week.

I guess I was never really concerned about my drinking behavior until I noticed this year that I was sending alot more emails and texts that started with “I’m sorry if I was so drunk last night…”

And then the other day my friend leaves me a message saying, “Hey, I just wanted to see what happened with you last night? You were acting very un-Jiniusesque.”

Ummm what does that even mean? Was I doing calculus at the bar or something? Now that would be out of character for me.

But I have to admit I was embarrassed. It’s hard to feel proud about yourself when your friends are telling you that you were acting strange. I mean, it is one thing to get drunk and start dancing on the tables (behavior I fully endorse) but to get so drunk that you’re speaking in non sequiturs? That’s just weird.

So I emailed with my friend Fab. I figured she could offer some insight as someone who’s known me since college and knows my drinking behavior. And now she lives in LA and can offer an outsider’s perspective on the whole New York drinking scene.

Here’s what she had to say. Please feel free to leave stories and suggestions in the comment box. You can even leave an anonymous comment. (more…)